Different
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Sam worries about Dean while he takes care of him after the fight with Cain. Missing Scene from 10x14. Worried/Caring/Sam and Hurt/Dean.


Note: This was written for wonderful people on Tumblr who desired to read a fic about what happened between Dean falling against Sam and being back at the bunker. Hope you like it. Please review!

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Dean fell bonelessly against me.

I caught him, my arms slipping around his back, holding him up.

"You did it Dean. You did it."

My pride and amazement came through loud and clear, though my tone remained soft and low as I spoke the words into my brother's ear.

"You did it. You really did it"

Dean gave no response, not that I expected him to. He looked as though he had just been through one hell of a fight, the details of which I was itching to know, but I knew better than to ask.

"Come on, let's get you back to the car." I said, manoeuvring around to my brother's side and pulling his arm over my shoulders.

I stooped down so that Dean would be more comfortable, silently cursing our height difference for what may have been the very first time.

The journey to the Impala was slow moving. I supported the majority of my brother's weight as his knees continued to buckle. Cas followed a few steps behind, I could feel him watching, probably looking to see if his assistance was required. I appreciated the consideration, but was set on taking care of my big brother on my own, as he had done for me a countless number of times.

I carefully unloaded Dean into the passenger seat, easing him down gently and shutting the door once he was settled inside.

I looked back to see Cas walking off in the other direction. I had a mind to ask him where he was headed, it probably had something to do with the blade, but he could take care of himself; besides, I had my priorities.

Dean.

"We'll be back to the bunker in no time. Then we'll get you cleaned up." I explained as I dropped behind the wheel and started the car.

My older brother gave no reply, staring absently out the window as he leaned back in his seat.

I could tell he was wiped and didn't push for any sort of response.

The trip back to the bunker was made in silence, I couldn't help but sneak constant glances over at the weary man to my right. I tried my best to be content that my brother was alive and that he had given up the blade with out incident, but I couldn't shake my concern.

"I'm alright Sam" Dean rasped.

I looked over at him; my brother hadn't bothered to remove his gaze from the window, but apparently my frequent glances hadn't escaped his attention.

"Of course you are." I stated with a nod, doing my best to stamp down the feeling of unease that seemed to have taken up residence in my gut.

When we arrived home Dean climbed from the car unaided, though I stood close, waiting to step in at the sight of a single faltering step.

I shadowed my brother's movements as we made our way through the bunker, but when Dean went to turn toward his room, a grabbed hold of his jacked. I tugged his sleeve in the direction of the kitchen. The injured man didn't react, so I tugged again, insistently.

Dean turned to look at me.

His expression was vacant. Those green eyes that were often bright with the intensity of emotion, were now faded dull with disinterest. My big brother had always been expressive, saying the same thing with a simple look that other people would need sentences to express. I had spent my entire life studying Dean, struggling to be more like him. I knew the meaning of every line on his face, ever twitch of his eyebrow, and every glimmer in his eye. What I didn't understand was the meaning behind the completely blank stare I was currently receiving.

I was certain not to allow any of my confusion to show as I tugged one more time on my brother's clothing, nodding my head in the direction of the kitchen. Dean relented, allowing me to guide him toward the room and gently push him down onto one of the stools.

I left my brother sitting there, staring down heedlessly at the table top, while I retrieved the first aid kit, dampening a towel and began dabbing away the the cuts on my brother's face. He sat in complete compliance as I cleaned each visible injury. It unnerved me that Dean never once mocked me for being a mother-hen or tried to swat me off the way he normally would.

My brother was practically unresponsive as I removed his jacket, tossing it aside and adding laundry to the list of things I needed to do, after patching up my big brother.

"Dean, I need to-

Before I could finish the statement the older man already began to remove his over-shirt as well as the t-shirt underneath. I cringed at the visual damage to my brother's back and abdomen, knowing that tomorrow his entire torso would be an array of colours, painful shades of purple and black.

I grabbed an icepack from the freezer, wrapping the towel around it. I picked the most visibly damaged patch of skin and place the cold object against it.

"Hold that there." I instructed.

I started a pot of coffee out of a desire for something to do as we waited for the cold to do it's job on Dean's swelling injuries, plus I had a feeling I would need it later, sleep wouldn't be coming easy tonight.

After the coffee was started I gathered the bloodied clothes and left the room. I dropped the garments needing to be washed on my bedroom floor and proceeded to my brother's room where I grabbed two clean shirts.

I returned to see Dean exactly where I left him, satisfied that he was still holding the icepack against his swelling skin.

"Here." I handed the clean clothing over.

"Thanks." Dean grunted.

I was glad for the reply as basic as it was, the silence had begun to wear on me.

My brother slid into his shirts, wincing as the fabric brushed up against the damaged skin.

I sat down across from him, pulling his right hand further across the table. I used supplies from the med-kit to clean his knuckles, testing each to be sure it wasn't broken, relieved that all my brother's injuries were of a superficial nature.

Dean stared down at the surface of the table as he continued to hold the ice-pack against his body. It probably wasn't going to do a whole lot, but hopefully it would make him a fraction less soar tomorrow.

Once I had done all I could for my brother's hands I stood and filled a bag of ice, subconsciously wondering why we only had a single cold-pack, it's not like we didn't get injured enough to warrant keeping a few more in the freezer. I placed the bag of ice-cubes down on the table and flipped my brother's right hand over on top of it.

"You hurt anywhere else?" I questioned, giving the man a once over.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you got it all." Dean answered, his voice devoid of the exasperated tone that usually accompanied such a reply.

"Good." I declared with a nod.

"Can I get you anything else?"

Dean glanced up at me, tearing his eyes from where they had been focused on his hand long enough to shake his head.

"Something to eat?"

Another head shake.

"How about something to drink? Coffee? I just put some on, it should be ready." I offered.

"Sure." He responded.

Eager to have something to do I grabbed a cup and filled it for my brother. Setting it down in front of him, black, just the way he liked it.

"Thanks." He said, placing the cold-pack on the table, but leaving his bloodied hand atop the bag of ice.

I nodded, these one-word, simple phrase conversations were starting to get old.

As I poured my own cup, I observed Dean, my worry for him not dying down in the least, even now that he was cleaned up and sipping coffee.

There was something wrong with my big brother.

It was more than evident weariness and pain. It was more than the hopelessness I could feel radiating off of him, despite his attempts not to show it.

It was something else, something I couldn't peg.

Something that wasn't right.

I knew Dean, I knew him when he was angry and I knew him with the mark, hell I even knew him as a demon. But this was different.

Different than every other version of my brother I had ever known.

I turned to face the man seated at the table, placing the mask of hope back on my face.

Although, beneath it I knew that there was something wrong.

Dean was different.

Different than the big brother who raised me.

Different than the genius hunter.

Different than the man cursed by the Mark.

Different than the person he had been only hours ago.

He was different from the Dean Winchester I spent my entire life desperate to make proud.

My brother was different.

And that scared the hell out of me.

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Note: I realize this is sort of like my fic "Calm" which was entirely unintentional...but it happened. Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I live for feedback...which I realize is probably pathetic...but I'm over it. My shortest fic ever...seriously, it's like a little baby story! Sorry...I'm rambling now! - Sam.


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